I Have A Better Idea Than Superdelegates. I Call It Super Whoopass.

We all know the deal. For the first time in a generation, one of the political parties may open their convention this summer without knowing who their nominee for president will be. It happens to be the party I belong to, and one of the contenders is someone I started rooting for long ago. Thing is, while I've been a political nerd longer than I've been an adult, I've never come this close to actually being on the winning side of a presidential campaign. It's a bit of an odd feeling. Normally the race for the White House for me involves a few weeks of hope, a crushing defeat in New Hampshire, and four years of sulking. This time though, we could win, and I have a plan to make it happen.

We fight them. When we get to the convention we physically fight the delegates pledged to Hillary Clinton. We pummel them until they concede defeat. Even if slightly outnumbered, I feel good about this. Remember her strongest demographic is the elderly.

I'm tired of her and her crap. We lock the doors, turn on the cameras, and sell the rights on pay-per view. Both to help finance the campaign and to let McCain see what he's in for. It'll be cathartic, unifying to the party in a way that mere words could never be. In the manner of two drunk dudes who get beer muscles then leave their neighborhood bar arm in arm, Hillary will have no choice but to respect us after we beat up her delegates. We stop only when she finally says she's sorry for voting for the war.

Then the strategy for November will involve triggering McCain's PTSD. I recommend appointing a campaign manager who's Vietnamese. He should be mean looking and talk with a heavy accent. We'll see if we can find a way to get some of his speeches piped into McCain's hotel room in the middle of the night. When it's good and dark. Getting physically violent with McCain will probably be less effective, as honestly, I don't have any ideas on what to do to him that haven't already been tried. I'm thinking there's still some room to fuck with his mind though. More every day actually, as his date with Alzheimer's draws ever closer.

Maybe there's a reason I've never been on the winning side of a presidential campaign. Or maybe I am the next Karl Rove.